Thanksgiving, Even When It's Hard
✉️ A letter from me about the (sometimes) hardest holiday
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Hey friend,
It’s Thanksgiving week in the USA. We pray that you’ll be surrounded by family and loved ones, and that you are at peace. Many people reading this letter, however, are in or recovering from a TMT (The Massive Thing) season, and it may be hard to feel very thankful.
When you’re really hurting, frustrated by some part of your life that isn’t working like you want, or even if you’ve just suffered a long string of mini-TMTs (those “small-t” traumas or disappointments), it’s hard to overcome your brain’s insistent, “What do I have to be grateful for?” messaging.
Wherever you are, though, I want to remind you that Thanksgiving isn’t just a fun holiday. Gratitude is the mindset of self-brain surgery, and learning to “give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thessalonians 5:18) isn’t naïve, it’s neurosurgical.
Here’s the knotted-up mystery I’ve been tugging on since my son died: how can it be that the most horrific, traumatic, painful thing I (and Lisa, our kids, our whole family) have ever been through could also be the thing that clarified what my life is for?
I’ve come to believe it’s because two things can be true at once. Life can break your heart and still be beautiful. You can ache for what you’ve lost and still see goodness shimmering through the cracks. You can weep and give thanks.
And when you choose gratitude- not because you feel it, but because you need it- you start to take mind-down control of your brain. You interrupt the survival networks that keep you stuck in reactivity and reopen the pathways that make growth and healing possible.
That’s the paradox of Thanksgiving: it’s not pretending things are fine; it’s practicing gratitude until your brain remembers that there’s still something worth being thankful for. And in that shift- from reaction to regulation, from despair to deliberate thanks- you begin to process your pain more effectively, heal more completely, and discover another miracle to be grateful for.
✍️ For Free Subscribers: When Gratitude Feels Impossible
If you’re in a hard season right now, I want you to know something: you’re not broken because you don’t feel grateful. You’re human.
Your brain’s baseline reactions have you wired for survival, not serenity. When something painful happens, the limbic system lights up first, and it’s scanning for danger, not beauty. Gratitude doesn’t come naturally in those moments because your brain thinks it’s protecting you.
But here’s the hopeful part: your mind can train your brain to see differently.
When you start naming even one good thing, one beautiful moment, one kind person, one reason to breathe, you’re not ignoring the pain. Instead, you’re engaging a different neural network. The prefrontal cortex and the salience network begin to override the amygdala’s alarm. In other words, gratitude shifts you from reactive survival toward restorative healing.
That’s why Paul’s command wasn’t to “feel thankful,” but to give thanks. It’s an act of faith and neuroscience at the same time. We stop contemplating what hurts, and start operating to make it better instead. Giving thanks in all circumstances is how you take mind-down control of the system that defaults to keep you trapped in fear, resentment, or despair.
So if Thanksgiving feels complicated this year, try this tiny act of self-brain surgery:
Notice one thing that still works. Your heartbeat. A friend’s text. The smell of coffee.
Say it out loud: “Thank you for this.”
Repeat daily, even when you don’t feel it.
Each time you do, you’re re-educating your nervous system to look for peace instead of pain.
The surprising secret is this: learning that you don’t have to be thankful for what you’re going through, but deciding to think about something you are grateful for shifts your brain into a mode that allows you to see other true things about the thing that’s hurting you.
This is how you begin to see that your time in the “furnace of suffering,” (Isaiah 48:10) isn’t burning you up, but is refining you instead. That knot I’ve been tugging on? It turns out that going through the loss of my son clarified my purpose, made me infinitely more resilient, proved the solidity of my marriage, and provides the drive for me to keep showing here, for you, every week.
Losing Mitch is not something I’m grateful for, and it remains the worst experience of my life. But at the same time, I’m so grateful for God’s faithfulness and presence in the process, and how it’s shaped me into the person I am today.
The paradox of Thanksgiving, played out in my life, is a template for how you can engage with gratitude even when you don’t feel like it.
🧠 News for Your Neurons
Neuroscientist Andrew Newberg found that practices like prayer and gratitude increase activity in the prefrontal cortex while quieting the amygdala—the part of the brain that shouts “danger!” even when we’re safe. Over time, this leads to measurable growth in the hippocampus, the area involved in memory, hope, and emotional balance.
So when Scripture says, “the peace of God, which transcends understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7), it’s describing what MRI scanners are now confirming. Gratitude guards the mind.
If you stop reading here, remember this: Even when it’s hard, even when it hurts, practicing gratitude is how you gently guide your brain back toward hope.
I’ve got so much more for you when my new book comes out in about four months! You’ll be a master self-brain surgeon in no time.
But the good news is, you can start today!
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📢 A Final Word From Me
Lisa and I will gather with family this week. We’ll laugh, eat too much pie, and yes, we’ll cry for the empty chairs at the table. But gratitude will still be present, because it’s what turns memory into meaning, and loss into legacy.
If this season feels heavy, don’t force joy. Just whisper thanks for one thing, and let God do the rest. That’s how healing begins.
Hit reply and let us know how you’re using self-brain surgery to make the gratitude shift this week.
Be sure to check out the archive of previous posts if you missed last week’s letter.
Dum spiro spero (While I breathe, I hope),
Lee
II Timothy 1:7, “For you were not given a spirit of fear, but of power, of love, and of a sound mind.”
From the banks of the North Platte river on Moon River Ranch in Nebraska, USA
Disclaimer: This letter is for informational purposes only. It contains general information, drawn from my experience, research, and best practices. It is not health care advice, and is not intended to replace the counsel of your health care provider. Consult your provider before starting any new treatments or making changes to your health routine.
I cannot give you advice or answer questions about your medical or mental health care, recommend providers or treatments to you, or comment on your specific situation.
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